Sabertooth vs Predator: Blood Hunt Ch1
by I need to write
Summary: This is project I'm currently working on, set in the worlds of Origins, where a particularly ambition Predator takes on the ultimate prey. M for violence.


VIETNAM, JULY, 17, 1979

He was on his haunches within the bushes, the cover of greenery masking his form. Barely noticeable, thin rays of light shaped into a pattern over his face. The heat was nearly unbearable, his uniform soaked with the sweat of his back.

He was waiting. Waiting for the time to strike.

Through the thicket, he could see his prey. They were tall, skinny men, lanky, dressed in an array of plain house clothes, under shirts, or shirtless. Their weapons, a culmination of AK-47s, pistols, daggers, and grenades, dangled about their wiry frames. They didn't even seem like they could manage the weight.

He was trying so hard not to lunge at theses weaklings, not cut them down where they stood. But he knew he could do it in seconds. It was too easy for him. The moment he engaged them, the sport would cease.

_Oh what the heck....._

Before the thoughts could even escape his mind, he stormed out of the bushes, leaping high into the air, an explotion of foliage in his wake. He uttered a feral howl, sending the banter echoing througout the jungle. The rebels turned in an instant, fear on their faces evident, eyes bulged with terror, skin tone pailing.

They had nearly dropped there weapons. It wouldn't have mattered anyway.

The first, he landed on him, smashing him under his fierce weight. The rest, he assaulted them, tearing through them like a wolf strangling a hen.

Moments after he'd finished, he could hear the crunching sound of jungle foot prints. Yards behind him, one lone rebel lept out from behind the tree. The rebel pulled the trigger of his weapon, firing from hip, sending armor piercing rounds ripping through the air. All of them hit their target, tearing right through.

It truly was painful, kind of like a bee sting. He even slouched to the ground on impact of the munition. The rebel had even probably thought he'd kill the beast. He knew this because the patterns in the rebels breath changed slightly, calmed.

It didn't last. He could only imagine the look on his face when he saw the sight of his wounds slowly re-knitting. He could hear the rushed breathing, smelling excretions of sweat. He turned slowly, a dark grin on his face, revealing the long fangs.

"Thanks for back rub." Victor Creed said.

The rebel's face looked like a corpse. Finally seeing the attacker, staring into primal, yellowish- hazel eyes, the rebels expression was similar to a fish out of water. Ironically, it was pretty much a literal case from him.

Before he could even pivot his heel to flee, Victor was already on him, killing him with barely any effort.

+Victor, Victor, you still out there?+

The buzzing of the com caused him more pain than bullets, his enhanced hear burning.

"Yeah, I'm still hear, never really left."

+Nice to know. Their are reports of hostiles in your area+

"_Were_ hostiles."

+I see. Scouting out stragglers isn't a priority. Finding that propaganda tower is. Continue your mission.+

"Copy. Creed out."

Continue the mission......

So killing the enemy wasn't part of that plan? It was the same old thing with Victor, with people over him, people in authority. They made you what you were, chose you because of it, but then when it came time to do what you were born to do, they always had some trash to say. Always.

But none of that ever bothered him. He always managed to get by. Time to move on.

He walked over the dead rebel's corpse and proceeded into the dense, canopies. After ten minutes of effortless trecking, something made him stop dead in his tracks.

There was nothing out of the ordinary. The smell of vegetation piercing his nostrils, the jungle cacophony clouding much of his hearing. Bird cries, humming insects, hissing reptiles.

But something was wrong. Through the odor of vegetation, he picked something out. A scent, strange and sour, nothing like he had ever smelled. A mutant perhaps?

Some how he did feel that was the case.

Slowly but surely, the smell became more clear, more easy to pick out among the jungle scents. Something was closing in on him, inhuman, unknown.

It would see to it that it would be its first mistake, whatever it was.

He lept high onto a tree, claws digging into the bark, climbing up into the dense drapery of leaves and vines. He took his position in a small crevice of the tree, fitting his bulk as best he could. And he waited once more.

As time past, the scent grew stronger still. He began to hear small clicks and snapps, presumably leaves or twigs.

Minutes went past and so did Victor's patience. He began to get the idea that whatever was out there, already knew he was there. It was stalking him, hunting him like an escaped zoo animal.

The thought made Victor see red, snarling, snorting, infuriated at the insult. He was the hunter, the predator.

And his unknown adversary had him pinned up in a tree like a frightened kitten.

This time, he was going to take his time killing his foe, dark thoughts forming in his mind.

Suddenly, something flickered in the corner of his eye. He turned and for a moment saw nothing, then looked down on his shoulder, staring at three read dots forming into a triangle, slowly rotating.

_Sniper._

He immediatley vaulted from the tree, narrowly missing some type of projectile, the bluish spear of light vaporising part of the tree off.

Slamming onto the jungle floor, he looked up. Another flash of light and he rolled over, the munition blasting a burning crater into the earth, smoking forest debris flying in all directions.

Victor took cover behind a tree, completey baffled at the situation.

_Plasma weapons? How the blood did village rebels get there paws on PWs?_

He peeled his head around the edge of the tree trunk.

Nothing, aside from falling leaves, some smoke whisping in the wind.

But he could still hear it, that clicking noise, penetrating his accute senses, agitating him. What was that?

He left the tree, crawling through a mess of bushes. He needed to get out of sight. Healing factor or not, the enemy was accurate with that weapon, and Victor didn't feel like testing whether or not he could grow his head back.

Looking through the screen of leaves and twigs, his eyes caught somthing. For a moment he thought his eyes were screwing with him, but then he realized that wasn't the case. A figure was perched on top of a tree, meters away. It looked as if it were made of some liquid, light reflecting off its glassy sheen.

_Cloaking? What the heck are you?_

It wasn't a mutant, it couldn't be. The weaponry wasn't anything he'd seen among man. Of course that didn't necessarily mean man hadn't made it. The under world of mutants included things not commonly shared with the outside world and when they were, in wasn't a very formal affair.

An assassin? Bio-logically modified to kill mutants. It didn't seem like anything new, After all, maybe the rebels in these parts were more connected than they seemed.

Whatever. He'd kill plenty of them before. This one just had shinnier toys. He saw his nemesis now and it was he who would show it the meaning of the word, "ambush". The jungle, the woods, this was his territory. It was time for him to teach this intruder a good old law of nature.

He began stalking through the woods like the primordial predator he was named after. He was a ghost, dissolving into the shadows of the foliage, silent, invisible.

He was nearing the tree of his enemy, his mind soaked with the dark thoughts of his vengence. It was distracting.

As he climbed up the tree, silent as mist, he began to ponder. Wasn't this too easy? This foe had seen him before he knew where he was, nearly blasted him in two, and now it was just sitting there? But any bit of reason Victor could process, was drowned out by animalistic adrenaline. He was Sabertooth. He needed no reason.

With that, he lept into the air, gunning for his hated enemy, uttering his savage war cry.

He never made contact.

Something snagged him from the air, sending flying through the canopy, tearing through leaves and branches, shrieking like a crazed jungle bird. His body smashed into a large tree, a steal mesh strapping him down.

He instantly felt searing pain all over his body, blood flickering down his brow. The net was shrinking, slowly cutting bloody cubes into his flesh, blood pouring down the trunk of the tree. He thought about breaking out, but wasn't sure he could heal from that either.

It was humiliating. Pinned like a butter fly, defensless. For the moment, the irony was fitting.

His trapper landed on a branch opposite of him, Victor's reflection visible off of the liquid sheen. Slowly, the cloak began to fade away and he now saw his attacker.

It was large, almost as he was, yellowish-brown spotted skin. It was partially coverer with armor slapped together in some tribal fashion. Mounted on the creature's left wrist was a strange device, numbers and utterly alien symbols scrolling over the screen. Mounted on the left shoulder was a gun of some kind, smoke blackened barrel, swirving left and right. Its helmet was alien, covered in ruins of some sort.

It just stared at him, the clicking sound even louder, sharper, tormenting him. Victor snarled with hatred. He didn't even care about what had been done to him anymore. He just wanted to kill it to make sound cease.

+THANKS....FOR THE BACK....RUB+

The voice was his, distorted by the speakers and different pitch.

"I'll kill you!" Victor growled.

The creature pulled out what looked like a small saucer. With a flick of the thumb, long, thin blades unsheathed. They began rotating, gaining speed, barely visible.

"I'll KILL YOU.......!"

It was the last thing he could say before his foe plunged the spinning blades into his neck. The pain was unbearable. Through the strain red of blurred vision, the last thing he saw was his own blood, bits of his skin fly out.

All was black.

+Victor. Victor this is Logan, do you copy? Respond, over.+


End file.
